Hopelessly Optimistic
by Eight Years
Summary: Harry sits alone in the common room each night coping with events. Tonight he finds comfort. Short and bittersweet.


Story: Takes place during Harry's 6th year. Harry/Hermione friendship

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but the plot of this short fic.

Hopelessly Optimistic

The warming blaze of the hearth, though flooding warmth to the common room, brought no comfort to the lone figure sitting near it. Even burrowing down in a sea of blankets did not fill the cold void in his heart. All he could do was sit in silence, for any feeling of life brought to him was a reminder. 

A reminder that he was alive. 

Sirius was dead. 

Harry Potter was supposed to be the hero. He was to defeat Voldemort single handedly and save the day. Nobody's life was to be claimed.

But they had been.

First Cedric, now the only man who ever felt like true family. Of course the Weasley's treated him like one of their own, he couldn't imagine any better family than theirs. Yet, Harry felt a stronger connection to Sirius. The Weasley's would never be his real familiar. Sirius was as close as he could come to having parents. He was after all, his godfather. He had witnessed his parent's marriage. He had been the best man.

His parents.

They add on to the list of people Harry could never see again thanks to Voldemort. These thoughts brought on a fresh wave of tears for Harry. How pathetic could he be, sitting up late and crying about things past. Even though Sirius died a full year ago, the wound of his death was still fresh. 

A soft creak brought Harry out of his reverie. Straining his ears, he heard a soft padding coming down the stairs. He hastily wiped his tears and hoped whoever it was would not know he had been crying.

"Harry?"

He sighed. It was only Hermione. Had it been anyone else he would have been embarrassed. What would everyone think if they heard The Boy Who Lived cried himself to sleep at night?

Hermione settled herself next to him on the couch. He didn't bother to glance over at her for fear she would see his remaining unshed tears. Hermione's stare can be unnerving. It's as if she's trying to pick at your soul by searching through your eyes. She can always tell when something isn't right. 

A pair of warm arms wrapping around him snapped him out of his thoughts. Glancing over at her, he was greeted with a warm smile of friendship. She leaned her head on his shoulder and they sat in comfortable silence. 

Nothing gets past Hermione. Harry had a feeling she knew about his sleeping habits, and for an odd reason he didn't seem to mind. The usual Hermione-like way was to pry into his problems but lately she had been more comforting, and this warmed his soul.

That warmth he needed.

Feeling his tears had subsided, Harry contemplated whether or not to start a conversation. The warmth of her body pressed against his was nice, he didn't want to break that. On the other hand, this may be the only time they have to talk privately. He swallowed.

"Hermione do you ever think about things?"

That sentence did not come out exactly as planned. Hermione tilted her head up to catch his eyes, the fire casting a sparking glow against them.

"I tend to think about a lot of things, Harry. Anything in particular you care to know about?"

Sending him a playful smirk, he couldn't help but shake his head at himself.

"I mean like Voldemort,"

Hermione winced slightly. As much as she tries she can't help but cringe at the horrible name. It was involuntary.

"And the war."

It was true. A magical war between wizards and deatheaters was inevitable with all the recent attacks. Already so many Aurors had been claimed. It was only a matter of time until a full-blown battle was to occur.

"All the time."

Hermione's eyes were cast downward at this statement. She clearly wasn't proud of it.

"I just get the feeling things will never get better," she paused. "It's hard to sit and act interested in my studies when I have the feeling Hogwarts might not even be here next year."

This revelation shocked Harry. He always believed Hermione to be optimistic when it came to the magical war. She was the one who encouraged him through all his obstacles; the events with the philosopher's stone, chamber of secrets, the triwizard tournament, everything. Hearing such a gloomy statement from her upset him.

"Hermione, don't you dare think like that."

His tone was louder than his previously soft-spoken words. The harshness made Hermione jump, but she quickly relaxed.

"How can I not Harry? Everyone in the school is downcast including the teachers. The entire wizarding world is feeling the effects of Voldemort. Even you can find no reason for a smile. I see it in your eyes, Harry. You too can not find any hope."

Harry drew in a shaky breath. So she knew. 

"I hear you come down here every night, Harry. I know what you're thinking about. Your heart yearns to have Sirius back. Voldemort or not, it was his time."

The topic of Sirius brought back tears to Harry. Every mention of him lately stabbed Harry like a knife. The pain of loss was overwhelming. A tear slid unknowingly down his cheek.

Hermione's arms tightened instinctively around Harry. He has to deal with so much pain. She occasionally has pessimistic thoughts, but has never had to cope with death. 

They sat for a long while after that, neither wanting to speak of the war again. Sometimes it was better to not say anything at all. 

The dying embers of the fire failed to produce much heat. The common room again became cold unbeknownst to the two friends curled up together on the couch. 

Eventually Hermione felt the chill of the room since she sat only in her cotton nightgown. Harry had offered her his blanket before but she kindly refused. His body heat and the fire had been enough at that time. 

Unwrapping her arms from Harry, she stood up and stretched. The clock strung three a.m. Neither realized they sat that long. 

"We should get to bed. Potions first thing tomorrow morning." 

Harry stood and theatrically groaned. 

"Professor Snape. Just the smiling face I want to see in the morning."

Hermione laughed heartily and playfully hit him on the shoulder. The hopeless thoughts of last night dissolved and all that remained was two teenage friends. They walked out of the common room and up the stairs side by side. When it came time to part into their dormitories, Hermione embraced Harry one last time.

"Everything will turn out in the end, Harry." 

She whispered into his shoulder.

Harry let out a content sigh and inhaled her scent. Hermione can be so complicated sometimes. One minute she thinks downheartedly and the next she is full of hope and optimism. His relationship with her was like no other. Perhaps one day they could be lovers…

Where had that thought come from?

Sure, Hermione was a girl. He had noticed that fifth year at the Yule Ball. She had looked absolutely amazing. Ron's short-lived crush on her had slowly subsided, just as Ginny's had with Harry. The Weasley siblings seem to have the similar experiences with love. That made him smile.

But to have a relationship with Hermione further than friendship? That would never happen. She surely doesn't think about him in that way. Hermione and him will always be friends, and friends only.

Realizing he had gotten lost in his thoughts again, Harry strongly replied to Hermione.

"It will."

She pulled back from the embrace and did something that surprised him. Leaning up on her toes, Hermione planted a soft kiss on his forehead. Parting with a quick smile she hurried over to her dormitory and shut the door with a tiny click.

Harry remained rooted to the spot where Hermione kissed him, a silly grin on his face. 

__

So there is hope after all…

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There you have it. Just a short fic written in my spare time, hope you liked it. Review if you would be so kind, thanks for reading!


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